


Toi, Moi & Café

by WeDidItKiddo



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: WHAT IS THAT BIRD DOING, a little three-year-old makes an appearance, cold winter days, don't take the car Scott, fluff fest or what, snowstorm shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeDidItKiddo/pseuds/WeDidItKiddo
Summary: Montreal, 2017. Stuck inside their apartments during a snowstorm, Tessa and Scott quickly realize they're both out of food. An emergency grocery trip is in order.(... a.k.a. the fluff fest most of us probably needed.)





	Toi, Moi & Café

**Author's Note:**

> I was in need of some winter fluff, so I wrote a little something. A one-shot inspired by Maddi Hubbell's Instagram story. You're welcome. ;)

_Tessa’s apartment, Montreal_

_March 2017_

 

In what is arguably the worst snow storm Montreal has seen in the last fifty years, Tessa considers it a victory that she’s sitting at the island of her kitchen sipping on a kale smoothie on her day off instead of huddling under a blanket on the couch in a hot chocolate-induced coma, decked out in three pairs of fluffy socks (Christmas present), sweatpants (go-to weekend attire) and Cherokee bon fire jacket with wool inside (an item of Scott’s she’s been “borrowing” since he wore it to the airport when they left for Nationals in 2013). The emails about Adidas sponsorship deals and an upcoming collaboration with Hillberg & Berk are starting to lose her focus, though, and it is shifting to the thought of that cup of hot chocolate she knows she can’t afford when Worlds is right around the corner.

It seems like, in the past year and a half since they decided to do this crazy comeback thing (to great dismay of some family members), there’s been an awful lot she can’t afford. It’s the not-so-glamorous side of the comeback no news report is talking about: she can’t afford to cheat on her diet, she can’t afford to miss a few minutes of practice, she can’t afford to make as many trips back home as she’d like since she’s already kept busy enough.

And still. It’s the one – well, there are more, but one of them jumps out – thing she _can_ afford that makes it all worth it: the fact that she’s allowed to get lost in their tiny bubble here in Montreal and give herself to the two things she cares about most in this world: skating and Scott.

Behind her on the TV, a report of the highway that is closed due to a 30-car pile-up is droning on. Tessa spins around on the bar stool just in time to see images of a string of stranded cars flashing across the screen. Emails momentarily forgotten, she focuses on what the news anchor is saying, but the sudden and brutal screeching of her phone dramatically pulls her back to the present.

“God _damnit_ , Scott, you are going to kill me before I’m thirty…” She quickly snatches her phone from the kitchen island, heart halfway up her throat because Scott’s awfully off-pitch wailing is _not_ her usual ringtone.

When the name of the culprit of this unpleasant surprise pops up on the screen, she wastes no time on a greeting.

“If that was an attempt to simultaneously give me a heart attack and rupture my right ear drum, you succeeded.”

A low chuckle comes from the other end, be it slightly drowned out by a strong, whistling sound. Almost like he’s standing outside in the middle of this blizzard. “I was going for embarrassment in public, but I’ll take it.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but in this weather there’s no way I’m setting a foot outside of my apartment.” Lifting her gaze to the window, she slides a few feet over the hardwood floor and presses her face against the cold glass to look at the snowed in cars of her neighbors. Part of her is still busy trying to figure out when he could’ve taken her phone and changed her ringtone when she asks, “Speaking of which, you sound like you’re standing in the middle of it. Where are you?”

“Right outside of my place.” There’s a short pause, crackling of a phone rubbing over a jacket, and then a car door slamming shut. When his voice returns, the wind in the background is gone. “I’m going out to get some groceries. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything, so we don’t make this trip twice.”

Oh. So the idiot is actually going to attempt to _drive_ through this blizzard and get himself killed for a dozen eggs and some vegetables.

“Scott, are you for real? Have you seen the news report about the thirty cars that are piled up on the freeway?”

“No, but I’m sure you have.”

“Yes, I have. Trust me, you don’t want to go out in this weather, unless you bought a snow mobile and forgot to tell me about it.”

Silently, she adds, _please tell me you bought a snow mobile and forgot to tell me about it._

“Well… I guess we have a problem then, since I’m already sitting in my car.”

Tessa rolls her eyes, which she’s pretty sure he can tell even through the phone.

“A snow mobile would be cool, though,” he continues. “Remind me to add that to my bucket list. Or whatever they call those things. Why do they even call it a bucket list in the first place?”

She can tell he’s distracted, because his voice sounds like he’s leaning forward and away from his phone. A second later, that theory is confirmed: his radio switches on and _Yeah_ by Usher booms through the speakers - and through Tessa’s only remaining left ear drum.

Flinching at the sound, she pulls the phone away from her ear. “You really need to get that radio fixed.”

Peace returns a second later, the music now replaced by Scott’s growls. “I know,” he says, sounding irritated and tired. “That piece of shit is starting to drive me nuts. But back to the subject, Virtch.”

Distracted by a moving object in her peripheral vision, which turns out to be a guy on a snowboard who’s shredding through the deserted street like he owns the place, it takes a few seconds for his sentence to dawn on her. She shakes her head and looks away, afraid that if she doesn’t, Scott will somehow read her mind and get the even stupider idea to trade his fairly new (and not at all equipped to go out in a snowstorm) sports car for a snowboard.

(Breaking a bone: item number 12193 they can’t afford. For obvious reasons.)

“Right, well, I’ve never really wondered why they call is a bucket list, so I don’t really…”

“Not the bucket list,” he talks over her, flipping through the stations in search of his favorite country radio station. “Groceries. Do you need anything?”

He’s really going through with this. She shouldn’t even be surprised, because this is classic Scott: not wanting to cave when all the elements in the world are against him. He will get those groceries one way or another, and she’s starting to feel like she’s really not going to be able to stop him.

“I don’t need anything, and I’m sure you can wait a few days as well. Can you promise me you won’t drive in this weather?”

He sighs into his phone. “T, I didn’t shovel my entire driveway just to let my car sit here and look pretty. Besides, we’re on the most important meal of the week, remember? Gotta get that protein in.”

Momentarily abandoning plan “Stop Scott From Killing Himself”, Tessa heaves a sigh and makes an epic dash around the three Barbie dolls sitting in the middle of her kitchen floor (curtesy of Poppy, her three-year-old niece) to save herself from wiping out on her way to the fridge. Upon pulling it open, she suddenly realizes she’s missing at least half of the ingredients for her own carefully planned-out meal.

With the sound of the heavy bass of Scott’s radio in her ear – his pride and joy, and, presumably, the main reason why he bought the car (despite its red leather interior and his mom’s unmistakable disapproval) – another plan develops in her head. If she can’t stop him from doing something stupid, she might as well be there to make sure he doesn’t do anything even _more_ stupid.

Like, say, put on his skates and skate through the road. Which is another thing he would actually consider.

“Okay, you win.” Slamming the fridge shut, she dashes through the living room and heads for the cheerful Nintendo tune that’s coming from her bedroom. “How about we make a deal: you leave your car in your driveway, and I come and join you for the trip to Latina. You have to admit the chances of us both dying on that walk are far lower than the possibility your car will slide off the road and get hit by a truck.”

There’s silence as he processes her words, probably because there isn’t much he can say to argue with her. Latina is about a ten-minute walk from their apartments on a clear day, so they should be able to get there in twenty. 

“Are you sure you want to make the trip down there while I could just go by car?”

“Yes, absolutely.” A smile forms on Tessa’s lips as she looks down at the big, curious eyes gazing up at her from the end of the bed, Nintendo game forgotten and tossed aside on the comforter. “Meet me halfway?”

It’s their signature phrase whenever they meet up for coffee on a day off, or carpool to the rink on Tuesdays and Fridays. “Halfway” means the halfway point between their apartments, the _Toi, Moi & Café_ bistro that has become their favorite place since arriving in Montreal and is only a four-minute walk for both of them. (Almost to the second. Scott timed it two days after discovering how close their apartments were.)

The smile on Tessa’s face has made its way through the telephone connection and crept onto Scott’s, which she can hear in his voice when he replies.

“Fine, but only because I know you’re not going to come to my rescue if I do end up in a ditch somewhere.”

“You’re absolutely right. I would say ‘I told you so’ and hang up on you.”

 _Queen_ plays in the background when he grins. His hands fumble with something, probably a plastic cap from a bottle. “And because I like you,” he adds, hesitation in his voice. “You know I like you, right?”

He is bending every unspoken rule that says they are only supposed to use that sentence when they get stuck in one of their silent arguments, to remind themselves of the most important thing that tethers them together: their respect and fondness for each other. There is no reason to say it now, but Tessa finds herself smiling even wider despite of herself. “And I like you. You’re lucky I’ve been able to forgive you for breaking up with me when you were nine, because I’m not sure my answer would be the same if I hadn’t.”

He laughs, and he’s eight minutes away sitting in his freezing car, but it sounds like he’s right next to her. “At least one of us has.”

“Riiiiight,” she teases, steering the tone of the conversation in another direction before they go down the slippery slope they’ve managed to stay away from for the most part. “Okay, so I’ll see in a few minutes. And please, do _not_ take your car.”

“I promise I won’t. See you in a bit.”

“Alright.”

After ending the call, the room stays dead silent, and the eyes in front of her only grow bigger. Tessa tucks her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants and kneels down in front of the bed.

“Okay, little missy. Are you ready to go outside and play in the snow?”

 

____________________________

 

 

The first instance Scott knows making this trip through the snow was probably a bad idea is when he spends two minutes working himself back up the tiny hill he slid off thirty seconds into the walk to the halfway point. The second time is when he finally reaches _Toi, Moi & Café_ and sees the bundled-up, pink marshmallow bouncing around Tessa’s feet in the thick snow on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t know you were taking _Poppy_ on this walk,” he says before he’s even reached her, anxiety sinking down his stomach. Plowing through this snow storm is one thing, but taking a three-year-old?

“What, did you think I was going to leave her alone in my apartment?” Tessa smiles up at him through a disguise of scarves and her biggest, puffiest beanie that reminds him of the one she used to wear in the rink back home. It was the one item everyone instantly recognized her by, together with her mittens. _Big hands._

“Of course not, but you could’ve mentioned she was staying with you. I wouldn’t have agreed to make this trip with you in the first place if I’d known… hi there, little munchkin! Are you staying nice and warm in there?”

Poppy flashes him her widest grin and nods, clenching snow in both of her mittened hands. “Hi, uncle Scott!”

Scott wiggles his eyebrows at Tessa, crouching down in front of the little girl. Even though he’s not related to Poppy by blood, he's never found it weird that she started calling him “uncle” when she was almost two. No one’s bothered to correct her either, because who’s going to explain to a three-year-old why aunt Tessa spends all this time with this guy if he’s not part of the family?

“My goodness, you’ve gotten so big. Do you think I can still pick you up?”

“I don’t know,” Poppy says, shrugging her shoulders theatrically and dropping the snow on the sidewalk.

“You don’t know? I guess we better find out.” Wrapping his arms around her, Scott picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, her belly-laugh in his ear. He starts walking, expecting Tessa to follow him, which she does: when he glances behind him, she’s shaking her head and laughing at the both of them.

And so their walk to Latina begins, Scott teasing Poppy with unexpected snowball attacks and prodding fingers in her sides. When she runs a little ahead of them, he slows his step to match Tessa’s easy rhythm and looks at her for the first time. _Really_ looks at her.

Even with the layers of scarves she’s got going on, he can tell her cheeks are as pink as Poppy’s. Her eyes are clear, but they’re skimming over his face as if she’s trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Normally, he would keep her guessing, but today he's feeling too giddy.

“So, T, how are you holding up?”

Her eyes still at his words and they stare straight into his now, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “What kind of question is _that_?”

“Uh – a normal one for two friends catching up?”

“… except we spent ten hours together yesterday, and every day before that.” She grins, her gaze traveling back to the snow on the sidewalk. “I’m not sure you can consider that ‘normal’.”

“It’s _our_ normal,” he says, because it’s true. It’s been their normal since they were still too young to sit in the front seat. “Do you like our normal?”

He knows he’s treading on thin ice here, and she knows it, too. This isn’t casually catching up with each other: this is making sure they are both still on the same page and prepared to do whatever it takes to get the gold in Korea a little less than a year from now – even if that means sacrificing part of their social lives and making their way through a snowstorm to get the right ingredients for the meals they planned with their dietician. 

“Yes, only I really felt like drinking some hot cocoa today," she says after considering her answer. "I have to admit, that made me reconsider everything for a good few minutes.”

His playful nudge is harder than expected and comes out of nowhere, and a high-pitched squeal escapes her as she loses her balance and tumbles sideways into the snow. She drops her jaw offendedly at him, hands planted on either side of her.

“Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe you just did that!”

“TESSA, TESSA, TESSA!” Poppy suddenly pipes up from where she’s crouching down a few feet away from them. “What is that bird doing?”

Both Tessa and Scott turn to look what she’s pointing at, but Scott is the first one to make out what’s happening. He takes two huge steps to get to Poppy and put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s just eating,” he explaining vaguely, hoping she won’t ask more questions.

Which, of course, she does.

“Is he eating a bird, uncle Scott?”

Scott feels heat creeping up his cheeks and he can sense that Tessa is getting up behind him. Before he can give Poppy a chance to let it dawn on her that the red-tailed hawk is indeed eating a frozen pigeon and let the image scar her for life, he swoops her up in his arms and starts running, making her fly as he does. "Of course he's not eating another bird, you silly!"

“Hey, wait for me!” Tessa calls from behind them.

“We’re not going to wait, get your butt over here, Virtch!” Scott calls back. He directs his grin at Poppy, who (thankfully) looks like she’s forgotten about the birds already.

“That’s a naughty word,” she whispers to him, half of her face hidden behind her mittens.

“What is?” Scott asks. “ _Butt_? Is that a pretty naughty word?”

He goes in for another tickle attack, and Poppy cries out with laughter. When Tessa finally catches up with them, Scott thinks the sound of their laughter combined might just be his favorite sound in the world.

 

____________________________

 

 

In the end, their trip to Latina takes them twice as long as it would have on a normal day (and if they weren’t hauling a toddler with them who, fifteen minutes into the walk, decides that she needs to pee urgently). Tessa rushes Poppy into the bathroom while Scott goes on a hunt for their groceries, and by the time the girls are done, he is carrying an overflowing cart with fresh produce.

 _Damn_ , Tessa thinks, squeezing Poppy’s hand in hers and sticking up her thumb approvingly at Scott, _he really is an efficient shopper._ The same can’t be said of her.

She wishes she could give him more than a thumbs-up, to show him how grateful she is that he’s here to help her with groceries and Poppy, but she can’t think of anything else than insisting to pay for everything.

Well, that’s a lie: she _can_ think of something better. But that would be so much worse in the long run.

They leave the shop with a big bag of groceries each, both her and Scott holding onto one of Poppy’s hands like Tessa remembers doing with her parents when she was little. They swing her back and forth, daring her to take a bigger leap every time she charges for another jump, until they’re barely making any progress anymore. That’s when Scott suggests to drop off the groceries at Tessa’s apartment and go to Mount Royal Park, which has some of the best sledding hills in Montreal.

Poppy, a fearless little ball of sass and energy, immediately runs off and makes friends with a few kids whose parents took them to the bunny hill of the park. Tessa and Scott install themselves at the bottom of the hill on the plastic sled they brought for Poppy, and that was quickly abandoned when she discovered her new little friends brought sleds that look way cooler.

Shoulder pressing against Scott’s, her gaze following Poppy as she trudges up the hill behind kids who are a foot taller than her, Tessa feels the smile spread on her face without the ability to stop it. Scott notices and nudges her side, leaning into her a little as he does so.

“What are you smiling about?”

“What, do I not have the right to smile at my niece?” she asks, not diverting her eyes from Poppy until she’s made sure she’s safely at the top. When Poppy takes off screaming, she finally shifts her gaze to her skating partner.

Scott is smiling back at her. “I can see those wheels turning, T. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugs casually and picks up some snow to mold it into a perfect snowball. “It’s just that, well, sometimes I forget how big the world actually is, you know?”

She regrets looking back up at him the second she does it. He no longer has the teasing look in his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze would be enough to take her out if she wasn’t so curious to find out if he’s had the same feeling.

“I think I know exactly what you mean.” He absentmindedly brushes some snow off his jacket, never breaking the eye contact with her. “It kind of feels like the world has reduced to just this thing we’ve been doing over the past year. Skating, Montreal, Tessa _._  And that’s it.”

He laughs, loud and unapologetically, which she used to hate but has grown to love about him.

“ _Toi, Moi & Café_,” she grins, checking on Poppy before she turns back to him with a matching smile. “But yes, I agree. And it’s different this time. I don’t know if it’s just the move from Michigan to Montreal, but things feels different. More… solid. Like we have a really good thing going.”

“Hm-hm.” He blinks a few times, and instinctively wraps an arm around her when a kid on a bright red sled comes shooting at them and misses them by a few inches. “It feels good, despite the strict schedule and the weird shirts we had to wear and all the people who rely on us this time," he says when the kid is gone. "Sometimes I’m scared it feels _too_ good.”

She can see in his face that he regrets saying those last words, but _she_ doesn’t. She loves it when he’s one hundred percent honest with her. “Too good… do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”

“Well, I don’t know.” He laughs to hide his discomfort, sticking some plastic thing in his mouth and chewing on it. “What I’m scared of is that I’m not going to be ready to let go when it’s all over. Is that a good or a bad thing?”

His words hit home more than she can express to him, because she’s been struggling with the same fear. That fear is the exact reason why she’s making more of an effort to soak everything up this time, to take things as they come and be constantly conscious of the second chance they’ve been given.

Unlike previous years, she’s also adamant on taking things as they come with Scott. She’s learned that it’s futile to fight what is going to happen anyway, and that it will only affect their partnership and their skating in a negative way if she does try to control it.

Flashes of the day they filmed the comeback video flood her mind when she looks down at Scott’s hand. The things they recorded for the voiceover that day ring through her head clear as day: they’re doing this for _them_. Not for the media, or their families, or even the gold in Pyeongchang.

This time, it’s personal. _That’s_ the difference _._

“You know, there’s no reason why we have to let go when this is all over,” she says, her voice barely audible over the excited screams of the kids on the hill. She’s willing herself to look up, to connect with him, but she doesn’t just yet, postponing the moment when there will be no going back.

“Tess, you know you will always have a friend in me, but you don’t have to promise me anything more than that.”

She takes a breath and holds it for a few seconds, an attempt to relieve the pressure on her chest. It’s still there when she lets go.

“I’m not making a promise to you. But I want you to know that it’s an option, one I haven’t brushed off the table yet. Even if it may seem like I have.”

She finally grabs his hand then, something they’ve done a million times since they were kids. It’s a trained move at this point, a movement as familiar as her own scent. She almost wishes she could say it has lost its meaning, but it hasn’t.

Not for her.

And when she finally looks up, she can see it hasn’t for him, either.

“Well, damn,” he whispers. He’s too close to bring all of him into focus at once, which is a pretty accurate description of their relationship at the moment.

“What?” she asks.

“Eight-year-old me really _was_ braver than twenty-nine-year-old me, eh?”

Tessa grins, remembering the moment when they’d first started “dating” at seven and nine. She can remember Jordan and Cara running up to her at skate camp like it was yesterday: _Tessa, Scott thinks you’re really really cute. Do you want to go out with him?_

She’d shrugged, like it was no big deal at all, while her cheeks turned scarlet and her heart went mad.

_Yeah, I guess. Sure._

She liked him, back then. _Really_ liked him.

She still does. But how can she compare their relationship now to what they had when they were kids?

“And what if I told you I won’t get mad at you for trying to kiss me this time?” she says, softly, part of her hoping he won’t hear her over the sound of the playing kids. But he does.

“Tess, you can’t promise me that.”

She knows he’s right: she can’t. But at least for this moment, she can pretend. “Try me. I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

His face freezes inches away from hers, hesitant, not sure what to think of this. It’s her quietest whisper yet that pushes him over the edge.

“Take a walk on the wild side, Scott.”

His cold lips touch hers and so does his heart as they kiss, on a plastic sled at the bottom of a hill, a dozen kids zooming around them on their sleds like they used to do when they were young. It’s not the first time he’s kissed her, and Tessa knows, even with the possibility they will eventually let go (and that, theoretically, this is something they can’t afford either), that this won’t be the last time.

Because nothing with him has lost its meaning.

“So how about you stay a little longer and we roast marshmallows over some candles?” she whispers in the warm space between their mouths when they pull back, just enough to look at each other but not enough to pop the bubble around them quite yet.

“Do you have roasting sticks?” he asks.

She grins. “No. But I do have knives. And sticks from the tree in my front yard. We will only eat two, of course.”

She knows Poppy is three seconds away from launching herself on top of Scott, tired out from their walks and going up and down the hill.

He knows it too, but he doesn't say anything. He takes every second with her he can get before he’s viciously attacked by the screaming three-year-old.

“ _Owww_!” he grunts as Poppy lands on top of him. He falls backward in the snow, hugging the little girl to his chest. When his gaze finds Tessa’s again over the mess of blonde hair escaping from the pink snowsuit, she realizes with a start that the option of not letting go after Pyeongchang is never going to be off the table with him.

She doesn’t know how much time it’s going to take, or how many weeks of loosening the ties between them, but she knows one thing: they’re always going to find their way back to each other. And in whatever shape or form, she’s going to need him there as much as he’ll need her.

When Poppy gets up from her wrestling match with Scott and claims the victory, Tessa gets up too and wipes the snow off her pants, reaching a hand out to him.

“Marshmallows?” she simply asks, which stands for so much more than just the sweet treat she’s offering him.

He doesn't hesitate when he takes her hand. “I won’t forgive you if we don't."


End file.
